Forgo
by sakiena
Summary: They both ended up in the same place; Skid Row, Los Angeles. All its doing is helping him forget and making her worry. But they're gonna pull through, somehow. They're sure of it.


He fucking hated this place.

Hated it with all his heart.

But this place was pretty fucking addicting.

It reminded him of Gotham; fucked up people everywhere.

He could tell that some tried to be good people. He could tell who really, really tried but gave up on themselves and fell into their own filth of broken dreams and twisted thoughts.

Everywhere, all over the streets, people were sleeping, people were smoking, people were laughing, people were dying.

It was sad, really. Almost made his heart ache.

But he knew this place was like that sadistic fucking city full of maniacs and people trying to stop them.

He was one of those people, of course, and he loved the thrill, but he didn't exactly like following the rules.

And he was still one of those people. Just not to everyone.

He was still in much more pain than he would would admit, but he still bothered to put up a show and kick the fuckers that traumatized the innocent from the streets to Hell.

He's pretty sure he visited that place once; not exactly a carnival.

One thing that he could admit was that this place made him feel a bit nostalgic. The smell of drugs and forgetting and smoke and tears lingered in the air, and it reminded him of when was along and desperate to get by.

He picked up way too many habits from being a street rat, and they still haunted him to this day. But why fight 'em? There's no point. He didn't want more stupid problems to care about.

And he really didn't want to care, just like the sad, sad people around him.

He fit right in.

These people were mostly sick in the head and maybe they thought their only hope was sucking different poisons into their lungs or sticking needles into their weakening veins.

Before he was pulled into the secret double life, he was one of these people.

Alone and pretty much doomed.

There was little to no hope. Even when the sun was shining, it still seemed like rain.

He definitely did things that he is not at all proud of, but he needed to. The horrible events rang through his head sometimes, but that's what had helped him survive. A little something is better than nothing.

Nevermind that he still woke up in sweat and screams every night, the scars refusing to fade away.

Dominance was horror in his head.

His past always trailed behind, and he couldn't help it.

And this was strange, very strange. For some reason, he felt a small spark of happiness erupt in his chest.

Damn, was this place getting to his head already?

Honestly, he didn't even know how long he was here. A week or two or something? He didn't know. He also forgot why he came her in the first place. Was it to punish and torture himself? Or somehow clean these people up? All he knew for sure was that once he heard about this place from - who was it again? - he had to come.

All this shit hole has done for him so far is confuse him, and take him into some sort of depression. This damned place was a fucking homewrecker. He was happy, too!

Why did he feel so at home?

Right now, he felt like some dumb fucking hormonal teenage girl who didn't know who to go to the god damned dance with. What the fuck was fucking with his head?

Fuck. This was way too soon.

Why was he here again?

And where was he?

Somewhere in Los Angeles... Skip... Skid Row.

He was in Skid Row, where there are really big assholes for cops and more than half the population is homeless.

This whole place was only fifty blocks, actually. Pretty much everyone here was fucked.

And he was now becoming one of those people. Great job, Todd.

Fucking idiot.

This place was already Paradise and Hell. It really made no fucking sense, really, and he hated himself for being so complex.

The burn of alcohol laid on his tongue and throat, along with the intoxicating smoke of cigarettes. He knew this is how he tasted pretty much every night, but this was... different. It was bitter, but the bitter was sweet and he felt really calm. He usually drank to numb whatever ache grew in his chest, and would eventually feel it when he became sober, but he felt nothing. He felt absolutely nothing because he did not feel alone.

And then again... holy fuck, what was going on? Why couldn't he remember?

His eyes were only half open and he slurred, white sheets tangled around him.

Wait... sheets?

Where was he?

He instantly jumped off the bed he was laying on once he realized he was not where he was supposed to be. Who the fuck would take him here? Almost no one had decency here. What were they thinking?

He had his fists up, ready to beat the dumb fucker who decided to carry him to wherever the hell he was. Just then, he caught a glimpse of bright red hair, and then it's owner came into full view. Her blue eyes shone with concern, but mostly amusement.

"Barbie? What the fuck?" the bird spoke, fatigue clear in his voice.

"I didn't exactly want you to drown in vodka and cigarettes. That'd be embarrassing, even though you're used to it," she answered with a smirk, taking a sip out of the mug she was holding.

"Fuck you," he muttered, letting his arms drop.

She gave a little chuckle before walking over to him and looking him right in the eyes. "No, but seriously, are you alright? You were drunk out of your mind last night. And high. It was different than usual."

He flashed his signature smirk. "Well, Barbie doll, this place is the best horror show I've ever been in. I felt obliged to take advantage."

Barbara rolled her eyes before letting out more of her curiosity.

"Jay, how come you're here? And please, tell the truth."

"Why are you here?"

"I asked first, dipshit."

How the fuck was he supposed to answer this when he didn't even remember shit? All he knows is that one of the bats had saved his ass before he depleted himself of everything. His mind was really fucked right now, and he was basically a complete moron at the moment. But then again, honesty is the best policy, right?

"I really don't fucking know," he answered quite confidently, eyebrows raised and a smile on his unshaved face.

"Jason Peter Todd, you better tell me the real reason you're here or I swear to fucking god I'll break all your limbs," Babs retorted angrily.

"Babsie, I'm serious. I don't remember shit. If I did remember, I would've told ya, but my head is really screwed up right now," he replied, arms up in surrender.

The red-head rolled her eyes once again, walking to what he assumed was the kitchen. "You want some tea?" she called out.

"Fuck yes," Jay responded happily.

As he waited for his hot tea, he sat down on the bed and observed his surroundings. The walls were a dulled white with streaks of black that he didn't want to know the story of. The sheets that were previously covering him was cheap, along with the pillow he had drooled on. The nightstand was also a piece of shit, matching the personality of everything in these filthy streets of Hell and rebellion. Pretty much everything was the same; nothing special, of course. Barbara then walked over to him, a hot mug in her hands.

"Here you go, Jay," she said nonchalantly as she handed the heated drink over to him. When he touched the cup, he hopped back like a bunny from the burn. How the fuck did she act like that didn't fry her skin?

As expected, her gorgeous laugh filled the room and his face scrunched up, trying to conceal his smile.

"Shutup," the reject snapped.

"Make me," the fair-skinned girl spoke in a sultry voice, raising an eyebrow.

After a minute of tension, Jason finally muttered "fucking asshole," proving her suppression successful.

"If anyone's the asshole, it's you, Todd. I got you out of the shit you were putting yourself into," Barbara argued, her frustration growing.

"Don't remember asking you to," the raven-haired burnout told the other calmly.

"Oh, darling, cry me a river." The sarcasm of her words only filled him with familiar anger, the anger he would love to forget.

"Fuck you, Barbara," he barked, standing on his feet.

"One more word out of your mouth, and I'm calling Daddy Bats over here. I have a feeling he'd love to visit," she threatened.

He really wanted to leave. But he knew she would stop him. He was pretty weak right now, too, so she had a better chance at catching him.

But then again, he finally had someone he actually knew as his company. His impulsiveness nearly got in the way of that. So, he did something that was totally out of the ordinary; he wrapped his arms around her. Truthfully, he loved intimacy, but he feared he would look weak if he confessed that.

Although she was surprised, she didn't hesitate to return the embrace with her free hand. He also did something that made Barbara question what kind of drugs he took and how long they lasted. "I'm sorry, Barbie," reached her ears, and it was the sweetest melody she heard in awhile.

When the hug was broken, she gave him the kindest smile she could manage. "It's alright, Jay. Now drink your tea," she ordered as she handed the cup over. He muttered a thanks in response and took a careful sip. He never realized it, but there were so many times where he looked as if he was five years old. And five year old Jason Todd is probably the cutest thing ever.

Babs fought the urge to throw her arms around him and kiss his face from the adorableness as she sat down on the bed, patting the seat next to her. He followed her unspoken command.

As he inspected her up close, he noticed a spot on her neck that was either a bruise or a love bite. "That a hickey?" he inquired, pointing under her jawline.

"Yup. You gave me that," she spoke casually, anticipating the look that would arrive on his face.

His face filled with disbelief and shock, enough to make her laugh. "I gave you that?! When?" he cried, completely horrified at the idea that he might've harrassed her when his brain was fuzzy with spirits and smoke.

She continued to laugh, and he wondered if she thought of him as a big joke.

Jokes. That's what he came here to forget.

"You were a little too drunk. Don't worry about it," the heroine reassured, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It is something I should worry about. Tell me the truth. Did I hurt you?" he babbled on like a child, his eyes wide with fear.

He was... open. With her. He was not afraid to express his concern. He must actually be comfortable around her.

"Jason, you didn't hurt me, alright? I knew you were drunk, and I knew how to handle you. When you finally knocked out, which wasn't easy by the way, I put you in bed," she said, her words full of genuine promise.

"Stop lying."

"I swear, I'm not."

"Then tell me what happened."

Just last night, Barbara was walking on the sidewalks of the poor and weak, feeling her heart drop a bit more every step she took. She would help these people one day. She swore it. As she was looking around, she thought to have seen a familiar face leaning against a wall, bottle of whatever in hand. She could only identify the person as a he. He was barely illuminated by the dim and stubborn street light.

Then she heard her name. Actually, her nickname.

Only one person used it.

"Barbie! Hey, Barbie!" The figure shouted, waving his arm.

Oh, fuck. In a place like this, in a place where everything was similar to where he grew up, he probably plunged himself into some deep crap.

There was no hesitance. She ran.

"Jason, what're you doing he-" she was cut off by his mouth to her throat.

Fuck.

"Jason, stop," she ordered, pushing him away, but it only made him come back. She knew he had been drinking and smoking. He reeked of the stuff. But the worst part was that he wasn't at all horrible at sucking skin. But then, he started using his teeth.

Even when he was drunk, he wasn't at all sloppy. She really was fucked. And this was happening way too fast for her taste.

"Jason, I said stop it," she commanded through gritted teeth, using all her strength to push him away, but his grip on her only became stronger.

And he did stop. But that only made it worse.

With blood-shot eyes and a smirk, he answered her. "If you admit you like it, I'll stop. And if you don't... I'll keep on going," he slurred as if he were about to fall asleep. His mouth swiftly took its place on her neck, continuing the sucking and the kissing and the biting on all the right spots and it really was fan-fucking-tastic but this was totally wrong. Totally fucking wrong.

And now, she was even more fucked. Either way, he was getting the satisfaction. And she didn't want to hurt him, either. She prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn't remember this when he was sober.

She rolled her head to the opposite side, exposing more of her neck and giving him a better angle. She let small moans vibrate in her throat and in the air. Of course, he took that as a sign to keep going.

"Of course I like it, Jay..." she spoke with fake lust, a hand tangling in his dark hair, "but we've got to get a room."

He looked up at her and smiled, the corners of her lips rolled up as well, with her eyes dark with artificial content.

"Haha... yeah..." he breathed before leaning his whole weight on her. And he just continued to laugh. She took his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders while her other arm snaked around his waist. She told herself to ask him what the fuck he was doing here when he woke up. He looked like total shit. He was still adorable, of course, but he still looked like complete shit. It never suited him.

She dragged him up to the apartment she rented in advance in this small Underworld, struggling to keep the former Robin on his feet. It also would've helped if he would stop poking her and laughing at every move she made and crying at the fact that he had a huge crush on her when he was Robin, but then just came back to laughing. She really, really didn't hope he meant it, but you always say what you're too afraid to say when you're sober.

She knew he was giving up on himself.

So she decided she was gonna stick around with him for awhile.

When she finally opened the door to the small and shitty apartment, Jason nearly fell out of her grasp.

"Oh my fucking god, Jason," she muttered under her breath, lifting him onto his feet. She practically carried him to the bedroom and placed him on the bed. "Oh... what is... this... what's going on... Barbie, where are we? I love you. Come closer," he mumbled incoherently, but she caught it. "What is it, Jay?" she asked calmly, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

"Closer..."

She did as she was told, not wanting to be bothered with a fussy Jason later.

Literally all he did was tap her nose and laughed at her surprised face and rolled over so that his eyes were on the ceiling.

"Jason, what did you put inside your body?" she questioned, not expecting an answer. She was smiling at his drunk stupidity, brushing hair out of his face.

"Barbara. Barbara," he said in all seriousness, rolling to face her, his eyes wide like a child's.

"What is it, Jay?" she asked, pretending to be curious as a parent would.

"Give me a kiss good night, Babsie," he laughed, grinning like an idiot. She felt her lips curl up at the show, and she reacted to what she was asked to do. She leaned over and gave him him a kiss on his forehead and then a quick peck on his nose covered him with the cheap white sheets, all the while feeling his hands playing the ends of her hair and his incoherent I love you's.

And then came now, where Jason was back to his old self. Sort of. He also needed major help. Well, he always did, but he would never allow anyone to come into his life. She knew she had to change that. She wasn't going to give up just yet.

"I thought you said it wasn't easy to get me to knock out."

"Yeah, well I was tired and a bit freaked out from you sucking on my neck."

"Sorry."

She ruffled his hair. "It's alright, Jay," she accepted.

Barbara always got this little kid vibe from Jason. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, she saw little hints of his naive and maybe even optimistic nature. He wasn't exactly one to let people in, which pretty much everyone in this family of misfits had in common, but she was already committed to get through his head. No matter how much he fucked up, no matter how much he killed, he was still the Jason he was before he died. He's just hurting, that's all. He's a sad and angry little boy. That's all he was. He also seemed much calmer than he was before. She took this as a sign of her growing on him, and she hoped he would say or do something that would prove her suspicions right. But she knew his snarkiness was still there. He's just way too confused and tired now, and they need to recollect and evaluate what's going on in his brain.

"So... do we consider this a reunion or something? When was the last time we saw each other, Barbie?" Jason interrogated.

Her lips curled into a smile. "Of course it is, birdy boy."


End file.
